


they stand around you like a thousand walls

by live_die_be



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Depression, Edmonton Oilers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/live_die_be/pseuds/live_die_be
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was drafted first overall, and it's the NHL, sure, but it's -- it's not what he expected. No kid grows up dreaming of playing on a team that never wins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they stand around you like a thousand walls

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting around for ages and i decided to just get it over with and post it. it's sad and awful and i just have a lot of feelings about Hallsy and needed to get them out. title from a poem by Rilke. 
> 
> eta: forgot to add the actual poem when i posted, whoops. here it is:
> 
> Piously we produce our images of you  
> till they stand around you like a thousand walls.
> 
> And when our hearts would simply open,  
> our fervent hands hide you.

He was drafted first overall, and it's the NHL, sure, but it's -- it's not what he expected. No kid grows up dreaming of playing on a team that never wins.

They're rebuilding, and Taylor guesses that means never seeing the same faces behind the bench for more than a year. Never seeing the same faces in the locker room or on the ice and there's always that little nagging voice when the trade deadline comes around that says, "Who's next?"

They're rebuilding, and that means collecting number one draft picks like stamps. It means being the hope for the future and the ones to be blamed when it doesn't work out.

People throw jerseys on the ice and it -- it _stings_. To know that they're letting down all these people who love the team and love the game and still have hope.

They're rebuilding, and the announcers and the trainers and the management all say, "These things take time," but it's been five years already and how much time do these things fucking take, because Taylor's already awfully tired of losing.

They've been rebuilding since he was drafted, and nothing's changed except the players and the coaches, they aren't better and they aren't winning, and the fans in the arena are still frustrated and tired but they still come to every game like clockwork to watch them lose and lose and lose.

 

It's a never ending revolving door of coaches, goalies, staff, and Taylor wonders when it's his turn or Ebs' turn or Nuge's turn to get the ax on deadline day. (He wonders if it would be _bad_ thing.)

Something has to change, people say, have been saying for years, and Taylor agrees. They can't keep having seasons like this. He can't keep playing seasons like this, and he knows this, because there will be a point when he stops loving it.

He loved hockey. You don't get to the big leagues without loving it with everything you fucking have and more, and even now there are days that lacing up his skates feels exhausting before he's even stepped on the ice. When his pads feel too heavy and the stick feels like lead in his hands.

If nothing changes, if the next year and the next and the next just play out the same way, there will come a day when he _doesn't want to play anymore._

They've changed everyone, keep changing things, and it's still not working. They're not improving and not winning and they're floundering. Sometimes Taylor wonders what's next -- what's going to change next, or if there's even anything else that can be done with the players and the pieces that the team has tried or will try.

But he plays because he loved the game, loves the game. He loves the team. He does. He still does. (If he keeps saying it it'll be true one day, right? Right?)

 

They keep trying because there's nothing to do but keep trying and keep playing but they keep losing no matter what changes or how hard they try and Taylor's starting to realize that it doesn't matter how much he loved it or how much he tries or how much any of them try -- that they aren't enough and will never _be_ enough.

They keep losing and it's too hard, they can't, he can't. It's too much to be the people an entire city places its hope in and it's too hard and too much and he can't do it.

And Taylor's just. Just tired. It's not fun anymore, it hasn't been fun for years now, and he's just so tired of it all.

 

Sometimes he wonders what he could do with another team and how far he could go. He's never had a playoff run. He's never come close to winning a cup. He doesn't want to be traded, not really. Not really. But sometimes he wonders what if he was -- if maybe he had been drafted second instead of first, if he had been a Bruin instead of an Oiler. If he'd have a cup ring then or if it's _him_ \-- if he'd still be losing and his team still struggling.

And maybe sometimes he feels ungrateful, for having so much and not being satisfied with having made it this far, for wanting more than he already has. But (it's not enough to always lose) he's not good enough and if he was he'd have more, he'd be there, on the ice and scoring some of those goals that make the crowds scream.

Sometimes he wonders how long it'll be before he stops hoping they'll change something. (Sometimes he wonders how long it'll be before he just stops trying because it's never makes a fucking difference.)

This isn't what he wanted, this isn't fun or good or anything he'd started playing for. This isn't what he fucking wanted it's too hard he shouldn't have to do this he shouldn't have to never win he didn't want this he didn't fucking want this. And sometimes he doesn't wonder-- he knows he's not good enough and shouldn't be here and the team deserves better the fans deserve better and everyone deserves something better than him.

(Some nights, on the bad nights after a bad loss he has too many six-packs and too little water, and he's curled up on the floor by the toilet and aching from the bruises but aching more from the losses. Some nights, he thinks about quitting. Some nights, he thinks he might like it if he didn't wake up.)

 

He's not a kid anymore and it's not enough to just say to himself that it's a rough patch and they'll get through it and he just has to try a little harder and just be a bit more, he can do it, really. The words are hollow and when the coaches speak it's empty and echoes through the old building filled up to the rafters with memory and a legacy that they can't possibly live up to.

He's not a kid anymore and it's been so long that Taylor doesn't remember what it was like to enjoy the game. He grew up watching Gretzky and he's ashamed to wear the logo because he's not good enough for it and he can't win for them.

 

Sometimes he wonders if Gretzky took all of the greatness with him when he left and didn't leave any for anyone else and that's why they keep failing. If maybe it's not their faults but out of their control because there's nothing left for them but loss.

But then he looks at the press about them and remembers that there's no one to blame but him when it doesn't work out because he was supposed to bring back the greatness and glory and never did.

 

Some nights Taylor listens to the radio and the people who call in to say how they're disappointed and tired and sick of the losing.

Some nights he wants to call in himself and just say " _I'm sorry_."

He's sorry. He tried, he did. He's still trying, they all are.

But it's not enough.

**Author's Note:**

> concrit is welcomed and hugely appreciated! my tumblr is live-die-be.tumblr.com and my ask is always open for anons if you don't feel like commenting publicly.


End file.
